It�s snowing, and snowing, and snowing, and snowing, and �

It occurs to me that the problem with writing in a diary is that everything happening is written from the writer�s point of view, and hence he always refers to himself in the first person, which can become rather tedious for the reader. This is only a problem really when the diary is meant to be read as literature; unless the diarist himself cares about the quality of the writing, it�s not usually an issue. As I was eating my chocolate chunk cookie and drinking my latt� after handing in the last of my Latin coursework (including the take-home exam which I finally finished typing up a half-hour before Little Princess was due at the clinic for another dressing change), I started thinking about composing yet another diary entry with an eye to making it interesting and enjoyable while at the same time recording the mundane activities which would otherwise simply vanish into the past unnoted and unmourned.

Upon arriving at the university and finding a place to park in the already deeply piled snow, I shoved my completed take-home exam under the door of the Latin professor�s office, said professor not being in, and visited for a short time with the slide librarian who was busy making slides (which is what she does). A wonderful aroma was wafting out of the kitchen and the art professor was wandering back and forth, tending something in the oven. It smelled like eggs and pastry, so I�m thinking he might have been baking a quiche.

I then slogged my way through the snow, still falling, to my office where I went online and found the morphology for eo, ire, fui, itum as I had made some errors in my verb synopses relating to present participles, gerunds and gerundives (this is so interesting, right?), then floundered back through the deeper snow to the prof�s office (she still hadn�t arrived and the slide librarian informed she was not coming in due to the weather) where I slid my corrected synopses under her door, then spent some time browsing in the book store looking for stocking stuffers. Yes, little fun things to stuff in Christmas stockings hung by the chimney with care. In case any of the proposed recipients actually read this, I shan�t enumerate them here. I then had a latt� and chocolate chunk cookie (I think we�ve come full circle here) in the loft, then drove home through the increasingly thick snow which hasn�t been plowed (ploughed?) in my neighbourhood.

As I entered the house, shaking the corn starch off my mukluks, Buddy Boy (who stayed home due to school cancellation) informed me that the concert tonight had been rescheduled for Sunday evening as the snow (which continues to fall) was continuing to fall. I feel somewhat relieved that a) I will be getting an evening off, and b) I don�t have to face VIad the ImpaIer tonight.

My menfolk are now shovelling the driveway (which will be filled in in a couple of hours anyway, I don�t know why they're bothering really) and I suppose I really ought to join them, even though I just got warm again after being outside. Sigh. I apologize for rendering this in the first person. I will have to invent a fourth-person narrative somehow for people posting public diaries. If anyone has any interesting ideas on how to accomplish this, let me know.

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